


Portraits

by islandsmoke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Portraits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandsmoke/pseuds/islandsmoke
Summary: Snape is none to happy with his existence as a Hogwarts portrait, and then Lupin shows up, just to make things worse. Or not.





	Portraits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lupin_Snape Summerfest prompt: portraits

~~~~

Severus was frowning. He sighed, he was _always_ frowning. One would think that non-existence would be easier than life, but if one was aware of being dead, how was that non-existence? Being a portrait felt very strange, and Severus Snape didn’t like feeling strange.

He decided to head for the painting of the Welcoming Feast and get a snack.

The painting was blessedly empty; it was two in the morning, after all. Was he the only dead person who suffered from insomnia? That sounded about right for the way things were going.

For months, officials had argued over whether or not his portrait should be painted and hung in the Headmaster’s office, but finally Minerva, damn her stubbornness, and Harry Potter, damn him on general principle, had prevailed, and now he was stuck back at Hogwarts for… ever? He shuddered. No portrait of him was likely to ever be painted and hung anywhere else, so here he was, stuck roaming the dark corridors. Again. Oh, all right, it wasn’t all bad. He enjoyed his debates with some of the former Headmasters, though he avoided tea with Dumbledore, and some of the Fat Lady’s drinking parties could be very entertaining, but overall, Hogwarts was not his first choice as to where to spend eternity.

In truth, he had rather been looking forward to… nothing. Total lack of awareness. Freedom from introspection - blessed peace.

But then, when had life ever gone his way, and why would death be any different?

“I thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep.”

Severus gave an undignified start of surprise and nearly dropped the éclair he was about to bite into.

“Are you following me?” He wheeled around to confront Remus Lupin who was looking over a bowl of fruit.

“Of course not, Severus. Why would I do that?” His eyes, the same shade of smoky blue as his dress robes, were wide with innocence.

Severus scowled; he was _not_ noticing Lupin’s eyes.

“I don’t know, but you seem to turn up at a lot of the same places.”

Lupin shrugged. “There _are_ a lot of paintings in the castle. Maybe we have similar interests?”

Severus sniffed. “I hardly think so.” He bit the éclair viciously in half.

“You know,” Lupin picked up a large, perfectly ripe strawberry and studied it. “While it’s nice to be able to eat as much of whatever one loves without gaining any weight, it would be nice to actually be able to _taste_ food again.”

“ _I_ can taste my food,” Severus looked smug.

“Really?” Lupin’s wide-eyed look held no envy. “I mean, I can taste the basics: sweet, salty, bitter, sour, and of course textures and temperatures are there, but I couldn’t tell, say, chocolate ice cream from vanilla. You can?”

“Well,” Severus gave a small, dismissive shrug and swallowed the pastry. “Maybe not the finer points.”

Lupin stepped close and reached for Severus’ face. He drew back out of reflex, and Lupin dropped his hand.

“You have a bit of cream filling - “ he touched the corner of his own lips - “just here.”

Severus grabbed a serviette from the table and dabbed at his mouth. _Why did the idea of Lupin touching him make his face heat?_ He searched for distraction.

“Why are you here, anyway? Why is your portrait hanging in the school, that is? Why was it even painted?”

Lupin winced slightly at that, and his expression clouded. “I don’t know. According to the Fat Lady’s gossip network - and you know how uncannily accurate that is - Minerva had it painted.”

“So, did you ask her?” He didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Of course I did.”

When Lupin didn’t go on, Severus fidgeted in annoyance. “And?”

“She said,” he avoided Severus’ eyes, “that she thought I would bring happiness to the school.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lupin picked up a satsuma and sniffed it. “You’ll have to ask her that.” He set it back in the bowl. “She just smiled when I asked her.”

Severus dropped that line of thought as unprofitable. “You look decidedly… less disreputable… than you did in life,” he smirked.

The irritating bastard grinned. “Don’t I though?” He face suddenly fell. “My portrait was painted from my wedding photo.”

“Ah, yes. The lovely Nymphadora.” Snape heard the bitterness in his voice.

“Don’t, Severus,” Lupin’s tone held clear warning. “Dora was a fine person and I won’t hear you, or anyone else, speak ill of her.”

“True love, then?” He couldn’t help himself.

The stricken look on Lupin’s face almost made him regret his words. “Perhaps not. At least,” Lupin took a deep breath, “not on my part.” He switched his gaze to the edge of the painting for a long moment. “It’s complicated.”

Severus snorted.

“Not everything is as black and white as you seem to see it.” Lupin actually sounded angry.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “It was just always assumed that you were a flaming queer.”

_That_ made the werewolf’s jaw drop.

“By whom?”

Severus studied a three-tiered display of petit fours. “Everyone.”

“I doubt it.” Lupin snorted. “That may have been your fantasy, but it was hardly everyone’s.”

“I _did not_ fantasise about you!” Severus stared in disbelief.

Lupin came close - too close - and chose a dainty square of pastry, biting it in half.

“I wanted that one.” It wasn’t true, but for some reason, Severus was having trouble thinking. The problem wasn’t helped when the bloody irritating man held the other half of the petit four to Severus’ lips. His traitorous mouth opened to receive the treat.

Lupin’s smile was slow and lazy, his eyes half-lidded.

Severus stepped back, bumping the table and unbalancing a large croquembouche. Not finding any words, he turned hastily and left, his spine rigid and his robes flaring as uncontrollably as his temper.

* * *

For weeks, Severus avoided the werewolf. This started being a burden, however, as the irritating man frequently seemed to be in whatever painting Severus chose to visit. He finally decided that he would not allow his after-life to be dictated by the beast, and took to going where he wanted, when he wanted, and if Lupin was already there, or arrived after him, he simply settled for being as rude as possible. This, however, seemed to make others uncomfortable - a lot of them actually seemed to like the miserable creature - and after a while, some of those who had actually seemed to enjoy his company started to became noticeably cool.

After the Four Witches Having Tea had not extended an invitation to join them when Severus had dropped by, he stalked off to Pastoral With Sheep to sit by the stream and stew about the unfairness of death.

He had almost run out of vitriol when Lupin strolled into the painting and sat on another rock close by.

“Go away.”

“I don’t think so.”

Without another word, Severus stood and started to walk away. He had only gone one step when Lupin’s voice, hard as steel, stopped him in his tracks.

“Sit. Down.”

He whirled, but his angry retort died at the look on Lupin’s face. He sat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Severus? You’re being a bigger wanker then you were in life, and that’s saying a _lot_. This is forever, you know, can you wrap your mind around that? Is this how you _want_ to spend eternity?”

Severus was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of totally unexpected, unfamiliar, and certainly unwanted, emotions.

“No,” was the only thing he could choke out. He turned his face away, breathing deeply, trying to regain control.

“Severus.” Lupin’s voice was soft. When he didn’t go on, Severus steeled himself to turn and look into his face. Lupin’s expression was gentle, but not pitying. He couldn’t have stood pity.

“The fighting is done, Severus. We won; there is no more for us to do. No more need to lie, to hide, to pretend, to avoid, to hate. The past is over, and while we’re not exactly alive, we’re _here._ “ He sat back, his smile warm. “I always fancied you, you know, even though you were a right bastard to me. I thought maybe you fancied me a bit, as well, and that might have been the reason you were so insufferable.”

“You did try to kill me.”

Lupin shrugged apologetically. “That, too.”

“Twice.”

“Yes, well. That wasn’t really me, and you know that.”

Severus stared at the stream. “Last night was the full moon. You didn’t…?”

“No,” Lupin’s face was alight. “I died as a man, and was painted as a man. That seems to have ended the changes for me.” He laughed softly. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is. I’m dead, yet I finally feel truly… _human._ “

“Lucky you.” The words sounded petulant, even to Severus.

“Indeed.” Lupin didn’t seem offended.

They sat for a while, watching the stream bubble and swirl over the bright stones. A breeze stirred the leaves of the lime tree overhead.

“But you’re straight.”

The non sequitur didn’t seem to phase Lupin.

“Not entirely. Sexuality isn’t an either-or for a lot of people. There are those who have never and will never feel attraction for the same sex, and there are those who are the same concerning the opposite sex, but a lot of people are somewhere in between. I seem to be about in the middle.”

Severus plucked a piece of grass and chewed it thoughtfully.

“And you fancied me?” He was incredulous.

“That’s right.” Lupin’s eyes shone. “You’re an _incredibly powerful_ wizard and smart as a whip. I find both dead sexy. And you have amazing control of your magic - when you’re not being a tiresome drama queen.”

“I am _not_ a drama queen!”

“What do you call the way you’ve been behaving these last few weeks then? People are getting fed up with you, you know, and believe it or not, a lot of those people _like_ you.”

“I….”

Lupin gave a slightly strangled laugh. “They have been begging me to just shag the stuffing out of you so you’ll get over yourself.”

Realizing his mouth was hanging open, Severus snapped it shut, then tried to pull his eyes back into their sockets.

_“What?”_

“I tried to tell them you didn’t really like me, but the Fat Lady and her friends insist that you’re crazy about me.”

He looked sideways at Severus, his mouth curling in a mischievous grin.

“So how about it, Severus, fancy a shag?”

Severus was at a total loss for words, and none occurred to him as Lupin slid off his rock and moved close.

“How about a blow job, then?” His voice was soft and seductive. “Just to take the edge off?”

Severus thought his eyes would roll back. He heard someone moan and wondered if it was himself.

Apparently, judging from Lupin’s reaction, it was.

Lupin eased him down onto the grass and kissed him softly while his hands worked Snape’s robes up over his hips.

“Lupin, I don’t think…”

“The name is Remus,” those damnable blue eyes were laughing. “And no, don’t think.”

Long lashes drooped as Lupin lowered his head to kiss the soft spot below Severus’ belly button. His body jerked, partly because it tickled, and partly because….

Lupin’s warm breath caressed Severus’ bits as he laughed softly, then….

Severus’ eyes did roll back.

* * *

The Four Witches Having Tea greeted Severus warmly and invited him to join them when he strolled into their frame. He did so willingly, accepting a cup of fragrant, if tasteless, tea and a plate of cake. He tried to arrange his face in its former stern lines, but knew he was failing when the witches gave each other smug sideways looks. Fine. So his inner contentment showed; he hadn’t ever felt this well in life and he refused to pretend he wasn’t enjoying himself at last. Had he known that regular shagging could change his outlook so dramatically, well, who knows what his life might have been like?

But, no. He didn’t think about that, He refused to flog the past. As Lupin - no, Remus - had said, it was over and done.

Who would ever have imagined the Werewolf to be such a… creative… lover? Aggressive, but not forceful enough to set off any of Severus’ defences, he….

“Sorry?” He realized that the ladies were waiting for his response to some question.

“We were just wondering if you were going to be at the Christmas Feast this year?”

He blinked. “I imagine so.” _Where else_ would _he be?_

Just then, Sir Cadogan bustled into the frame, flushed and a bit sweaty in his haste. “Headmaster McGonagall is looking for you Professor. She’d like to see you right away.”

Severus made his excuses to the ladies as Sir Cadogan rushed off, then he set out for Minerva’s office. He didn’t dawdle, but he didn’t hurry, either. He was no longer at anyone’s beck and call.

Arriving, he found Remus there, waiting in Severus’ frame with a cup of tea on his knee. (His own portrait was hung in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.) To Severus’ surprise, Hermione Granger-Weasley was seated in the comfortable armchair in front of Minerva’s desk. He declined tea and after a moment’s hesitation, perched on the arm of the wingback chair Remus was occupying. After all, it was _his_ chair, and besides, Severus was done hiding and sneaking about, even if he did wish for a bit more privacy from time to time. Honestly, everyone knew everything in this place. He tried to focus on the conversation and ignore Remus’ hand that had strayed to rest behind his arse. He could feel its warmth.

Granger was rambling on in a very uncharacteristic manner, something about a fete and Weasley drawing caricatures. His eyes strayed to the sheets of paper on Minerva’s desk and he blinked. There were drawings of Remus and himself; sketches of them on a beach, in a bedroom, in a kitchen, in front of a fire, and one each of a portrait. Remus looked fierce and brave as he cast a spell in his, but Severus…. Surely his appearance wasn’t _that_ rebarbative?

“And as Bill and Fleur will be away for at least a year in Peru, I suggested, and they agreed, that we could hang these in Shell Cottage.” Hermione flushed. “That is, if you’d like.”

“Oh, Hermione. This is just so thoughtful and generous of you - and Bill and Fleur! It will make a wonderful break for us, won’t it, Severus?”

Rapidly catching up, Severus felt his face stretch into a unusual smile. “Yes, yes it will. But, what made you think…. That is, how did you….” He sighed. “Never mind. There are no secrets here, and for once, I can’t say I’m sorry.”

His mind whirled. Shell Cottage. “There are no other paintings there, are there? I mean….”

“No.” Hermione smiled softly. “You’ll have the place to yourselves.”

“Ah, Hermione, if I could give you a hug,” Lupin was standing, a goofy look on his face.

She smiled. “I’ll consider myself hugged. I’m just glad… well, I’m just glad.” She said her farewells, and left.

Minerva’s expression was almost more smirk than smile. “Gentlemen. I‘ll just take care of this myself.” She picked up the drawings and left the office.

Severus ignored the buzzing of gossip from the other portraits. “Just us?”

“Just us.” Remus slipped an arm around Severus’ waist. “If you could stand my company?” He looked almost worried.

Severus took a deep breath. “While I do not yet enjoy your company as much out of bed as in, you are becoming a tolerable companion. I think… I think this will be a good thing.” He let his face stretch into a smile again, and found it easier this time. “Shall we pack?”

Remus laughed. “Is that a euphemism for making love? Because I’m quite certain that ‘packing’ isn’t something we need to do.”

“If you say so.” Severus leaned in and kissed Remus.

_Love. Who would ever have thought?_

~~*~~


End file.
